Last night, my ankle had an out-of-body experience.
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It's a crying shame Shakespeare didn't write a character who had an almost broken, badly sprained ankle. He didn't, did he? I mean, I'm only peripherally familiar with the hunchback of Richard III. (I think it's the III, it's Richard plus some number, that much I know). I still have two more gruelling performances of this play left and last night I...well...I may have compromised my 1000% commitment to my role in this production: I now possess a badly sprained ankle. That's never happened to me before, in my entire acting career. Truth be told, and gladly, I used to have really good balance and coordination....
I was framed in the third, or fourth, grade maybe.
Whether I like it or not, I am just not me without these frames.
It is no secret that I cannot see well. Now, there might be some other mystery about me that is less recognizable or understood (such as why I detest feet so), but sight? No mystery there. Starting in third, or fourth, grade, maybe, for some reason unknown to me, my eyes began to betray me, sometimes with less than desirable results. (I feel betrayed only when I forget to wear my...
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